Monsters
by gussiegal5
Summary: Murphy catches a clue. Much to her horror. Warnings: sexual situations, discussion/fantasy of rape, voyeurism


Title: Monsters

Rating: NC-17

Warning: sexual situations, violence, discussion/fantasy of rape and murder, and voyeurism (sort of)

Relationships: Harry Dresden/John Marcone

Characters: Harry Dresden, John Marcone, and Karen Murphy

Summary: Murphy catches a clue; much to her horror.

This is part of my AU series placed after Surrender.

A/N This has to be the darkest thing I've ever written. Pay attention to the warnings.

HARRYJOHNHARRYJOHN

When Karen Murphy saw the two men together she had a hard time restraining her snarl. Just her luck that the two biggest (and richest) scumbags in the city would meet each other at the Orphan's Charity Auction.

Murphy knew that as far as the paperwork went, both Harry Dresden and John Marcone were fine upstanding gentlemen, who gave a generous amount of their earnings to charities like this one.

She knew they were monsters.

The two of them stood side by side amid the other prominent members of Chicago's version of aristocracy, two wolves standing next to unsuspecting sheep.

Although Harry was by far the taller of them, both men stood head and shoulders above the crowd. Harry still managing to look chic in his ubiquitous leather trench coat; which Karen knew hid a carved club that she itched to confiscate and then 'accidentally' shove it into a fire.

The tux Dresden wore was a shimmering gray that darkened his eyes and hair to black. He looked like a well-dressed version of the grim-reaper in all honesty.

His pale skin was luminescent in the bright lights of the ballroom. His cheekbones looked sharp enough to cut, with deep shadows beneath them. Tousled dark hair was casually swept back into a low-slung ponytail that barely skimmed his shoulders and a neatly trimmed goatee made his teeth look even whiter when he smiled.

Hugely tall, Dresden's broad shoulders swept into a lean torso, and ended in long runner's legs, but Murphy could only focus on the beast behind the beauty.

Murphy sneered, exquisitely handsome Harry might be but she bet that her analogy of the grim reaper was closer to the truth than the woman currently hanging off of his disinterested arm probably wanted to know about.

Marcone was his own brand of fucked up gorgeousness. Word was that he had risen steadily in the Chicago Mob scene until he had seized his chance to dethrone the man who had for nearly twenty years tried to drive Chicago and most of Illinois into bloody compliance.

Where he had failed, Gentleman Johnny had not, but where the previous head had been known for his brutality on the streets, Marcone was a legend in the boardroom quietly taking the reins and controlling the vast majority of the criminal undertakings that, though less violent, were still happening with increasing frequency.

Murphy had to give the man at least some credit, he protected the children, drug peddlers who had previously dealt to children had either stopped or disappeared off of the streets soon after Marcone's rise to Mob royalty.

Murphy's eyes couldn't help but sweep over Marcone as well. His suit was a matte black, with a bold crimson tie spilling down his chest like a bloodstain.

He might have been shorter than Dresden, but Marcone had more muscle than his lean companion, and his shoulders were just as broad. Salt and pepper hair was kept in a short businesslike hairstyle, and his face was clean-shaven.

His eyes were usually old money green, but they were darkened in something close to rage and Murphy could sense his barely restrained sneer towards the woman on Dresden's arm.

As she finished her inspection, Murphy saw Dresden none too gently shoving the woman off of his arm. Pointing her back towards a man that Murphy assumed was her husband.

Leaning down, Dresden whispered something into the woman's delicate ear that had her turning an unattractive white and slinking hurriedly back to her puzzled looking husband's side.

Obviously she had been sent there to try and convince Dresden to do something. Murphy shook her head and sipped at the punch she clutched in her silk glove clad hand. She could have told the moronic couple that trying to get Dresden to do anything that he didn't want to do was a waste of time, and a dangerous pastime to try and partake in.

Dresden by himself was dangerous, but when the woman had interrupted what was obviously an intense conversation between Marcone and Dresden she'd been lucky to get away unscathed.

Murphy knew that Dresden had no compunction against hitting a woman; had seen him casually backhand an employee that had been trying to escape the white knuckled grasp he had had on her arm.

Murphy might have seen it, but she hadn't been able to convict the man of anything. Bad things seemed to slide off of Dresden's skin like oil and Murphy hadn't been able to convince the young employee to press charges.

When she'd tried to tell her Captain what had happened he'd cut her off as soon as Dresden's name passed her lips. Somehow she'd become the girl who cried wolf without even realizing it.

Every time she saw Dresden's too attractive face she wanted more and more to forget the fact that she wanted him on trial for any number of broken laws and instead she thought about just taking care of the problem herself.

When Dresden and Marcone left the room, a wave of Marcone's hand ensuring that the redheaded bodyguard that usually followed him everywhere stayed where he was, the bastard didn't even look concerned that his boss was heading out into the night with a man renowned for his viciousness and long held grudges.

Murphy slipped away from her date for the evening with a murmured powder room excuse and managed to slip out a side door without setting off any alarms.

Hurrying around the corner, Murphy was just able to make out the shadowy outline of her prey standing in a dark alley, heads bowed close together as though whatever they had to say was for their ears only.

She desperately wanted to catch what she could of the conversation. Hopefully they'd think they were in a private enough location that they'd give away some detail that could lead to an arrest.

She managed to creep close enough to them that she could make out the words that Marcone was hoarsely whispering to Dresden, as silently as she could she pulled out the tape recorder that she always kept in her purse. By God she'd show her Captain proof.

"What did you think you were doing Harry?"

Murphy barely restrained a shocked gasp when Marcone none too gently shoved Dresden against the concrete building.

"Did she offer herself to you?"

Murphy had to strain her ears to catch the words, because Marcone was leaning against Dresden's chest, his face buried against the taller man's neck.

Marcone must have bitten down because Dresden sank a couple of inches as his knees went wobbly and he moaned explosively.

"J..John."

"Did you imagine her trapped between us, scrabbling, fighting to get away from us as we stretched both of her holes?"

Dresden's chuckle was a deep rumble that had Murphy cringing back against the dumpster she was huddled against. Too terrified of being noticed to try and get away from the two men.

Suddenly Marcone was slammed onto the opposite wall of the narrow alley, his breath leaving him with an _oomph_ and Dresden scrabbling at the buttons of his pants.

"We could chain her hands to the ceiling, Harry." Marcone continued spinning the fantasy once he regained his breath.

His legs spread easily to give Dresden more room to work with so that he didn't just rip the buttons and zipper from the expensive cloth.

"Keep her suspended between the two of us, so that she couldn't even touch the ground with her toes. The only way she could get relief from the constant pressure was if she wrapped her legs around one of us, begged us to keep fucking her."

Dresden gave a triumphant growl as he finally managed to jerk Marcone's pants and boxers down, he was less gentle with his own pants ripping the button from the top and carelessly shoving the fabric away from his leaking cock.

When he finally managed to get all of the offending fabric out of the way the two men kicked it the pants aside, leaving them bare from the stomach down.

"We could keep her there for days, Harry. If we ever got too tired and she was still begging us to ease the pressure we could give her to Henderson, Kincaid, Thomas. Give her to so many men that even when nobody's been in her for a while she'd be loose enough to put a fist in."

Dresden pulled a tube of what Murphy thought might be lube out of the inner pocket of the trench coat that he was still wearing and pulled one of Marcone's knee's up so that it was wrapped around Dresden's hip leaving his hole open for the long slender figures that Dresden pressed into him without hesitation.

"We could do that John. Oh we'd have such fun. But John if we did it…"

Dresden pulled two fingers out and lubed up a third digit before pressing back in.

"We'd have to kill her."

Marcone lost it, arching into the fingers that were obviously pressing mercilessly against his prostate, a high sharp sound torn from his throat.

"Once we got bored of her John; and you know we would. Once she was broken, and wasn't any fun anymore, we'd have to get rid of her."

Bracing Marcone's back up against the wall, Dresden pulled his fingers out of Marcone's hole with a wet sucking sound before he grabbed the older man's other knee and lifting a hundred and sixty pounds of writhing weight like it was nothing before letting Marcone's hips drop abruptly letting gravity push him into his lover's body.

His arms were bulging with more muscle than Murphy had realized he had and he kept lifting up and dropping Marcone's hips without so much as trembling from the effort.

"We could do it while we fucked her one last time. Just before we orgasm in her so we can feel all of her muscles contract and _die_."

Murphy couldn't turn her head away, her eyes frozen as she watched the two men violently couple. Her ears unwillingly picked up the sucking sound of Dresden withdrawing from Marcone's body.

"Oh it would be lovely. But Lieutenant Murphy wouldn't like it very much."

And suddenly Dresden was looking straight at her.

"Would you Murphy?"

Murphy scrambled away now that her cover was blown, didn't care that she had torn her pantyhose on the rough sidewalk, didn't care that she fell flat and scraped up her elbows in her rush to get away.

She could try to arrest them.

They would succeed in killing her.

Dresden's rhythm didn't change as he leaned closer to Marcone, giving him an incongruously sweet kiss, ignoring Murphy as she untangled herself and managed to bolt away from the alley.

Murphy finally managed to drag herself away from the scene, falling into her car with a gasped sob of relief.

She was crying, shaking. Had never been this scared before. Pulling away from the curb, Murphy miraculously made it home without having an accident.

It would take her a while but she'd finally pull out the tape recorder.

All she would hear was static.


End file.
